The Days We Chase
by Iggyloid
Summary: I couldn't help myself. Matthew had caught my attention. "He's British. English, really, but what does it matter? Anyway, I suggest you go and meet him. He ran into the Bad Touch Trio and Francis has his eye on him. He won't last two weeks." USUK. Hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey there! This is my second story on Fanfiction. I welcome all advice and constructive critisim! This story shouldn't be too long.**

**I'm British (English, really...) and I've tried doing my research. Correct me on my mistakes, please! This is un-beta'd too and the tool I have typed this on doesn't have spell check.**

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><p>I sighed to myself and groaned whilst stretching my tired, aching legs; granted, I hadn't any reason for my fatigue, I'd been spending my weekend rotting away in my bedroom with my beloved comic books and my treasured video games. It wasn't as if I had anything better to do and Captain America craved my attention - I never was one to disappoint either. I glanced quickly at the plastic watch strapped to my wrist. It was cheap, old and worn, damaged by over two years worth of falls, tumbles and scrapes. It certainly was sturdy, but the numbers were often faded and hard to read. It needed to be replaced.<p>

I could barely make out a four and two blinking threes. The watch was ready to die on me, I was sure. It's poor condition was pushed to the back of my mind as brother, Matthew, opened the door of my room and leant against the slightly chipped wooden frame.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey Matt," I muttered whilst fishing through a pile of comic book. I had towered them against the side of my bed and they were in danger of falling.

"Have you got any plans for rest of the day?" He asked, flicking a strand of overly curly hair to one side.

"Yup, as a matter of fact, I do. Captain America, Superman and Iron Man." I smirked to myself and attempted to pry an issue from my pile.

"Well, I'd advise you to put those plans on hold. We've got a new neighbour, you see, and he's quite the character."

My stack of comic books collapsed without warning. A few of the older magazines looked ready to lose their pages as they spread across my bedroom floor.

"Seriously, Matt," I whined. "So there's a new guy on the block. Nothing special, it happens every now and then, I guess."

"I just thought you'd be interested," he mused. "After all, he's foreign and our age. Quite cool, really."

I gave up on trying to salvage my wrecked tower and Matthew continued.

"He's a little odd but he definitely makes up for it - he has one hell of an accent and he'll take you by suprise. You really wouldn't expect him to be so... well, I'm not sure how to put it, but you should go and meet him."

It really wasn't all that rare for a foreigner to take up residence in our little town. We lived in a popular state, Arizona, the Grand Canyon State, in Winkelman. Winkelman really was so small though. Well, at least for a lover of big estates, cities and modernisation.

"Where's he from?" With that, Matthew knew he had caught my interest.

"He's British. English, really, but what does it matter? He's from London, I think, but he has family all over the UK - Scotland, Northern Ireland, Wales, Newcastle, Liverpool, Plymouth... he seems to be a cool guy. Anyway, I suggest you go and meet him. He had a run in with the Bad Touch Trio earlier on. I can't see him lasting more than a fortnight. Francis has got his eye on him. Poor guy." My brother chuckled.

"Well, you're Canadian and you've managed just fine." I retorted.

"Of course, but I've got my heroic little brother by my side, haven't eye? This guy seems like a bit of a loner. Catch you later, Al."

I wasn't too interested in meeting this British guy, but I felt compelled. Plus, Francis had taken a liking to him. Though, that really meant nothing. Francis' type was the living and breathing type. He couldn't be too bad though.

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><p>I really had no idea of what to say to him - I hardly knew anything about him and I was confused - I felt allured by a boy I hadn't met and even though I couldn't think of any reason to introduce myself to him, I couldn't stop myself. I felt out of place as I shuffled my way up to the front door of his apparent home. I knocked once, twice, hard and heavy each time.<p>

The house was nicely sized. Four bedrooms, I guessed. _The kid must have a large family_, I thought. A boy with sandy blond hair answered the door and knocked my train of thought.

"Hey!" I chirped. "I heard you're new in town, I think you've met my brother? The name's Al!" I stuck out my hand. He shook it lightly.

"Hello," he murmured. Matthew was right. His accent was distinct. "My name's Arthur."

"Haha, nice to meet'cha!" I tried to keep my voice cheery. I plastered a smile across my face to hide my uncertainty. Sure, I loved meeting new people, I just wasn't sure why I dropped my busy comic-filled schedule for a guy I'd hadn't met.

He nodded. I examined him, taking in his appearance. He had monstrous eyebrows! They were huge! Not to mention they didn't match his hair; they were dark and thick, not fair and thin. They sat above the greenest eyes I had ever seen. _He must be wearing contacts,_ I thought to myself. They were amazing! Deep and sharp and a whole mixture of shades. He had extremely pale skin and he was slight in figure, very short too.

He blinked.

"Well, if that's all, I best be going." He went to shut the door.

"Wait!" I wailed. "Matthew said you've met the Bad Touch Trio!"

"Matthew?" He questioned, swinging the door open again. "Oh, yes. Come to think of it, you do look quite alike, and if by 'the Bad Touch Trio' you're refering to a French frog, a self-proclaimed Prussian albino and an idiotic Spaniard, then yes, I've met them."

"What d'ya think of them?" I asked.

"It's _what do you think of them? _Not _what d'ya think of them?_" He spat and I winced. He went from polite and formal to harsh and rude. "To be perfectly honest, I don't dislike them. I_ hate _them. Already. I've lived here for less than a week and I want to go home."

My face twisted into an apologetic look.

"Sorry, man. I know moving's tough. I mean, I used to live in good ol' New York City. Winkelman is a whole lot different to the busy life over there, but you get used to it, y'know what I mean?" I shrugged.

"Moving from one country to another is completely different." He argued. "I don't miss London. I miss England. The whole damn country."

"You were real polite earlier. What happened?" I mused aloud.

"I started talking to you." He retorted and smirked.

"Geez, you're not much conversation yourself, eyebrows." I sniggered. His cheeks tinted a few different shades of red.

"Stupid American," he barked. "You're not much of the looker youself."

"Honestly, I wouldn't expect you to find me attractive, but if it's guys you're into then I suppose I could make an effort, you know, clean myself up a bit!" I laughed as his grin faded and his face darkened.

"Bloody wanker..." Arthur flushed.

I really didn't know what to say. I didn't know what a _bloody wanker _was.

"I'm not bleeding." I stated, dumbly.

He stared at me before his laughter echoed. He actually had quite a nice laugh. A clear, genuine laugh.

"Well, at least now I know how to insult you Americans discreetly," he smirked. "You won't know I'm mocking you."

My face soured and I shrugged for the second time.

"Coward," I sang. "If you're going to insult somebody you should do it to their face."

"Fine then," he pouted and I couldn't help but smile. He looked like a lot like a scolded child. "You're an idiot."

"Hahaha!" I chuckled and winked at him. His face exploded with colour once again and I beamed. "I know. I mean, I'm reminded every day!"

He sighed. "Insufferable git. Have you no pride?"

"What's a git?" I wondered, tapping a finger to my chin. "I got pride," I deliberately used poor wording and grammar, just to get on his nerves. Isn't he special? "I just don't care for intelligence. It's overrated."

"You're quite the joker, aren't you?" Arthur smiled and for some reason, I had butterflies in my stomach.

"Naturally!" I boasted and, again, he laughed.

"Well, I'm sure I'll see you around, Alfred. After all, Winkelman isn't very big now, is it?" He spoke softly.

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen." He replied and I cursed under my breath.

"Awww, you're older than me!" I frowned.

"I act it too." He noted.

"Whatever, Artie." I ignored his comment and shortened his name.

We spent quite a lot of time in a playful banter with one another and I only left because Matthew had called my cell phone. He told me that dinner was ready and, of course, I bid farewell to Arthur in a rather hasty fashion. He didn't seem too impressed by my exit but it really didn't matter. I felt better knowing I had cheered a guy up; after all, he had a reason to be bitter after meeting the Bad Touch Trio.

I had a good feeling about Arthur and I didn't know why. He was different. Unique, unlike so many of Winkelman's other residents, and I liked him.

I had no idea how much he'd change me, for better or for worse.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for the responses! I appreciate it! I've fixed a few errors in the first chapter, please tell me is you spot any more! Thanks! **

**Implied under-aged drinking in this chapter and a small amount of inappropriate language, but hey, that's what the rating's for.**

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><p>Usually, I'd consider myself a fair, open-minded person, but that was before I met Arthur Kirkland. Shortly after meeting him, I'd discovered that we were polar opposites - not that I minded. It just made things more interesting.<p>

He was polite and kind on the outside, a gentleman to all observing him. On the inside, however, he was rude in a strange, charming way. To those close to him, his tongue was a double-edged blade, though he still managed to remember his manners and keep himself from dropping his act completely.

I, on the other hand, would openly admit my motives and when I poked people with sharpened pencils, I laughed and immediately confessed to boredom when I received twisted faces in reply to my antics. I liked to boost my ego by outwitting people, though I had no proper understanding of the word 'sarcasm' and I always kept my cool.

I considered myself as the cockiest guy in Winkelman. That was until he appeared.

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><p>My second meeting with Arthur had proved to be a disastrous one. I was introduced to his brothers and things were only made worse by the fact that I'd dragged Matthew along.<p>

I had knocked on his front door. Once, twice, hard and heavy like the last time, but instead of a short, messy haired blond, a tall, muscular red-head had answered instead.

"An' who might _yous _two be then?" His accent was obviously Scottish and the quality of his grammar rivalled my own. Matthew cowered slightly, despite his 'older brother' status and he automatically reverted back to his true nature; shy and quiet, though he always insisted on becoming argumentative and witty at home.

"I'm Alfred and this is my brother, Matthew. Is Arthur in?" I asked and ensured that I was standing straight. I felt short and that wasn't normal, not at all!

"Aye," the man confirmed. "Just a sec', I'll gan'in get 'im."

The man turned his head and yelled Arthur's name. A few strange words and a lot of swearing later, Arthur came into view.

"Oh. It's you." He muttered. "Ah, and Matthew too. Perhaps he'll make your presence somewhat bearable, hm?"

"That cut deep, man." I held a hand above my heart and faked pain. He scoffed at me.

"I assume that you plan on annoying me. Why is it I seem to be surrounded by idiots? Not you, Matthew. Well, I suppose if I've got yet another moron on my case, I may as well get rid of one." He regarded the man who still stood by his side with a slight wave of the hand. "Bye, Scott."

The man shook his head. He completely towered over Arthur.

"_Na, _I don't think so, little brother." He ruffled Arthur's hair and the smaller boy fumed silently. "Perhaps ya' otha' siblin's an' I should meet ya' friends here..."

Arthur's eyes widened and his face paled slightly.

A war suddenly broke out between Scott and Arthur.

"Get lost, you twit!" Yelled Arthur and I wasn't sure who he was talking to; me or his brother. He wouldn't have spoken to Matthew like that, definitely not.

I muffled my laughter with the sleeve of my hooded jumper and Matthew squeaked nervously.

"S-should we help Arthur?" He asked and I jumped. He'd spoken! Finally!

"Na," I smirked as Arthur's face flashed with a look of anger. "He can handle himself."

Eventually, more accented voices rang in my ears.

"Scott! You better not be beating up Arthur without me!"

"Without us, you tosser!"

"Let me watch! It's been a while since Jerk Arthur got smashed up!"

Two teens and a child trampled their way towards the doorway to the house and I had the semi-unfortunate pleasure of meeting Arthur's hell-raising, messed up brothers.

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><p>I was made thankful for my brother; he wasn't a crazed maniac, he didn't have a strange obsession with sheep, he wasn't violent, he didn't drink often and he didn't call me a jerk all the time.<p>

I'd discovered a lot about Arthur from his brothers. In the space of ten minutes, I'd been told that Arthur loved unicorns and he'd ridiculed his older brothers with his intelligence at a young age. As punishment, all of his stuffed animals were brutally mutilated. Arthur cried for weeks about the death of his toys. Arthur had only ever been drunk once and, when he was, he had made a complete fool of himself. He'd never been kissed, he loved to play poker for some reason and he once had a pet terrapin.

Of course, this only served to deepen Arthur's already foul mood.

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><p>Matthew had left after feeling uncomfortable, though he insisted that it was normal for him to feel out of place around unfamiliar people. Arthur's brothers also excused themselves from the scene. They left me with a red-faced, murderous Brit and something inside my mind clicked - I still found the situation amusing.<p>

"So. Unicorns and black magic, eh?" I snorted.

"Belt up, git." He snapped.

"Right, right. But, seriously? You and poker?" I mused with a smirk and his face flushed with colour again.

"What does it matter?" He whined. "Besides. I have more important issues to attend to. I'm now enrolled in Winkelman High and I assume that's the school you attend too. Lets be honest, this place is a ghost town."

"Shut up!" I yelped. "Don't bring ghosts into this! They're watching you! They know what you're saying!"

Arthur gave me a blank stare and I composed myself whilst coughing into my fist.

"Well, yeah, Winkelman High. Kinda' small, so maybe you'll be in some of my classes, yeah?" I gave him a small, genuine smile, one born out of hope, one that offered friendship.

Of course, the person I was offering it to wasn't the kind of guy to take it. Instead, he snickered and retorted quickly.

"I hope not. I don't think I'd survive with a prat like you stalking me around school." He folded his arms across his chest.

"Too bad for you then, Artie, 'cause you're stuck with me now!" I laughed and he gagged at the nickname.

"Get out of my garden before I mutilate you slowly." He threatened and my laughter became more hysteric.

"Like your teddy bears?"

Yeah, something good was starting, I could feel it, but, as the saying goes, all good things come to an end. Unfortunately, our good 'something' was due to come to an end before it kicked in properly.

Cue Francis Bonnefoy, Winkelman's resident man whore.


	3. Chapter 3

I've never had any problems with the British. Yeah, of course they did colonise sweet ol' America, but that's all in the past. Besides, we kicked their sorry _'arses' _anyway, right?

I've never disliked them either. Well, their cooking never has been what would socially be considered as edible, but that doesn't count - everyone hates them for that - although, food poisoning really isn't something I'd like to be diagnosed with.

High school in America was obviously a big step for Arthur. He didn't seem to be looking forward to it, though that was besides the point.

I had taken the liberty of walking Arthur to school, like the good neighbour I tended to be. Getting him out of bed, however, seemed to be a difficult task for Scott.

Arthur had struck me as the type of person who liked watching sunrises; the type of person who'd wake up at ungodly hours just to watch the sun break over the horizon.

Arthur, however, would rather drown himself in duvets and quilts and blankets at twenty-to-eight.

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><p>My mom had decided that waking Matt and I at half-six would be an entertaining way of getting us out of the house as soon as possible. Fortunately, she had been somewhat considerate - she had prepared us coffee and home-made pancakes that were soaked and drenched in maple syrup - she did have a heart, thankfully.<p>

Arthur, however, was lucky; his brothers weren't the type to care about his education. They left him sleeping - Peter had even invited me inside their house! Apparently, their parents were busy people with time-consuming jobs to which they dedicated themselves to. Their mom worked in another state, away from home and their dad worked as some kind of detective; a forensic investigator of some sort. He didn't spend much time with his sons and though, the Kirkland brothers were well provided for, they probably missed their parents a lot.

Arthur really didn't seem to care about his dysfunctional family. He was perfectly content with what he had, especially when what he had involved blankets and pillows. He seemed to be the type who'd bad-mouth his siblings and his parents despite caring about them.

Seeing him all wrapped up is patched throws and quilts was quite entertaining. His huge eyebrows didn't furrow and he wasn't frowning either. I stood staring at him for longer than would probably be considered as appropriate and normal - then I caught sight of the time.

An alarm clock stood on a small table that sat at the side of his bed. The numbers it displayed flashed violently in a bright, neon green.

07:59

_07:59_

"Arthur! Get up! We're gonna' be late if you don't hurry up and get your ass outta' bed!" I wailed at him.

He didn't wake up.

I ran over to his bed and almost tripped over a small box that had been abandoned and left on his bedroom floor. I shook him a few times and yelled at him.

"Get- up- you- stupid-"

Each word that came from my mouth was punctuated nicely with a rough shake.

"You'll- make- me- late!"

He still didn't wake up.

"Well, Arthur," I stopped shaking his sleeping form. "I didn't want it to come to this. I really didn't."

I rolled him off of his stomach and onto his back.

"You've asked for it now."

I eased myself down, so that I was resting my weight on one arm that sank into Arthur's soft mattrass. I positioned myself so that my mouth was at his ear. I took a deep breath and prepared myself.

_Arthur Kirkland._

_**One. **_

_You'll be sorry._

_**Two. **_

_This'll teach you to wake up when I tell you to!_

_**Three!**_

"Scott, I think our new neighbour's trying to rape Arthur."

"Just leave him to it, Peter."

Unfortunately, my anticipated, loud, manly-yell came out sounding more like a squeal.

At least it woke him up.

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><p><strong>Before I can continue with this story, I need American insults and their meanings. So, any American readers out there, write as many American insults as you can in a review! It'll be a big help! Thanks~ Sorry this chapter took FOREVER to publish!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

"What the bloody hell are you doing in my bedroom?" Arthur shrieked.

I gave him an awkward stare and shuffled a few steps away from his bed.

"You're really creeping me out now. Are you a rapist or a murderer in your spare time or something?" He clutched one of his blankets closer to him.

"Shut up!" I whined. "I'm supposed to be here to walk you to school but you're not even out of bed yet! I mean, talk about lazy!"

"I can stay in bed if I want to!" Arthur argued defiantly and threw his covers over his head.

I growled a few curses to myself.

"Come on, Arthur. Stop being such a blanket-whore!" I snapped and tugged some of his duvets and throws off of him. "You'll make me late for school!"

"Blanket-whore?" He scoffed, clinging to pale green fabric. I managed to pry it from his grip. "Was that the best you could do? Stupid Americans... you lot need better insults. Like tosser and wanker."

"Get up!" I yelled. I grabbed one of his shoulders and dragged him from beneath his warm, cozy haven.

"God, I didn't think you'd be one to be so anxious about getting to bloody school on time!" He yelped.

"I'm not, I just can't be bothered with half of the teachers that are gonna' give me crap for being late!" I pushed him towards his wardrobe and left him to change in peace.

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><p>I spent fifteen whole minutes waiting for Arthur to change into his uniform. Peter, who had already left the house, had shouted a few unrecognisable curse words up the stair to his brother and, to my suprise, just as Arthur grabbed his black messenger bag, a woman, who looked worn and fatigued, stumbled through the front door of the house.<p>

Arthur glanced at her quickly before freezing.

"M-Mum?" He stuttered. He rushed to her side and offered her a shoulder to lean on. "I thought you weren't due home for another few days!"

"Ah, well..." She yawned. "I'm back now, aren't I love?"

"You must be tired. How was California?" Arthur asked. I really didn't want to ruin the moment but school was due to start in ten minutes.

"Yes, I'm absolutely shattered." She laughed shakily. "California was beautiful, love. I should be home for a few days. After all, your dad will be working night shift. I'll be going to bed now anyway, I'll see you- oh, who's this then?"

I shot Arthur's mom a toothy grin and extended my hand. She shook it.

"Good morning, Ma'am, my name's Alfred Jones and I'm your awesome neighbour!" I laughed and she smiled gently.

"Wonderful. I assume you're friends with my dear Arthur here then, hm?" She spoke with a soft tone.

"Well, actually, I wouldn't class-" Arthur muttered.

"Yup! He's awesome! If I had a quarter for every time he has made me smile, I'd be rich!" I grinned as a blush spread itself across Arthur's face. "At the minute though, Ma'am, we'd better be on our way to school. Otherwise, we'll be late and Arthur really doesn't need that on his very first day of American high school!"

"Polite, kind and considerate! You could learn a thing or two from him, son!" Ms. Kirkland smiled at Arthur.

"Lets get out of here..." He sighed in defeat.

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><p>Winkelman High's uniform was something I always thought to be unflattering. Arthur, however, messed up my thoughts and opinions. The checkered blue pants of the uniform clung to his slim form tightly and the blazer, which wasn't compulsory, drowned his figure - it was huge on him! It almost reached down to his knees and he had folded his sleeves several times to ensure that the material didn't get in his way. Arthur looked a lot smaller in the uniform than he really was. It made him appear feminine and almost vunerable.<p>

I couldn't deny it; to say the least, Arthur looked appealing in Winkelman's uniform. He still seemed tired and wreaked of spearmint toothpaste. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his hair was unruly and wild.

"How far are we from school?" He asked and I glanced at the worn plastic and faded numbers.

"Five minutes," I seethed before tightly latching onto his wrist and dragging him down the street. "If you've made us late, Arthur Kirkland, I swear, I'll fucking kill you!"

"So you are a murderer!" He yelled. "Bloody brilliant!"

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><p><strong>AN: I've just corrected a few mistakes from this chapter. I hope you're enjoying the story so far!**


	5. Chapter 5

"Slow down, Alfred! You complete and utter buffoon! It's not as if we're going to get suspended for being five or ten minutes late!" Arthur wailed as I dragged him by the wrist through the streets of Arizona.

_"Slow down?" _I screeched. "Look, man, you're new to this place. You don't know how insane my homeroom teacher is!"

Arthur pouted.

"I hope nobody's watching us... we must look crazy!" I laughed.

"Agreed..." Arthur panted. He ran his free hand through his messy blond locks. "Please slow down!"

"No way!"

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><p>We were making good time. Five minutes after nine and we were almost at Winkelman High.<p>

Unfortunately, ever journey has obstacles.

"Look here, guys! Kesesese!" Estranged laughter filled my ears and I groaned.

"It's the German bastard!" Hissed the Briton beside me.

"Hey!" An albino rounded the corner and frowned at us. "Give me some damn credit, prick, I'm fucking Prussian!"

"What is wrong, _mon ami?"_ A heavily accented voice asked.

Two boys had been following the red-eyed boy. The first had long, flowing blond hair that had neatly been tied in a rather feminine purple ribbon. Light stubble adorned his pointy chin. The second boy was looked completely different; he had short, curly brown hair and tanned skin. His bright green eyes shone and twinkled mischieveously.

"Shorty over here isn't able to recognise my awesome!" Gilbert scowled.

I gulped. Arthur's eyes flashed a brilliant acidic green.

_"Shorty?" _He spat. "Take that back, you tosser!"

My grip on his pale, thin wrist tightened.

"What are you guys doing out of school? We're all late." I frowned.

The guy with the ribbon laughed.

"Skipping, of course." He, of course, was none other than Francis Bonnefoy, the notorious French pervert. He could worm his way into any girl's panties and he somehow even managed to convice most of the guys the ditch their boxers. He was nothing short of a whore. That's what I thought, anyway. Matthew, however, seemed to be quite taken with him. Opinions aside, school seemed to be the least of his interests, if his pockets were anything to go by. He pulled a condom out of one.

"Would you care to join us?" He winked at Arthur, who fumed.

"No thanks," I declined with an uneasy stomach.

Francis' eyes trailed up and down Arthur's body; from the gigantic blazer that swamped his body, to the tight, fitting blue pants. Paranoia swamped me. I released his wrist.

"You're new in town, _oui?_" Francis smirked. The albino, who went by the name of Gilbert, was famed for being a crude, obnoxious prankster and the third boy in the trio was Antonio. He, undoubtedly, was the nicest of the three. He was oblivious and kind, with a child-like perspective on life. He was ever-optimistic, light-hearted and cheery. God knows how he ended up hanging around with two slackers. He was chatting happily with Gilbert about his pet turtle.

"You know that full well, frog." Arthur's massive eyebrows furrowed and his lips fell into a frown.

"Ah, _oui, _how is your brother?" Francis chuckled to himself and Arthur clenched his fists.

"Piss off." He growled. "I barely know you, yet I can already tell you're a fucking slut. Stay away from my family!"

Something must have happened before I met Arthur. After all, the three European idiots did get to him first.

I sighed.

"Come on, Artie." I faked a smile, for his sake. He looked furious. "We don't want to make ourselves later than we already are."

Once again, I reacher for his bony wrist and tugged him along at a slower pace.

"Mr. Roma's gonna' have a fit. A new student, late on his first day. I'll cover for you." My approach changed. We didn't have time for banter and joking.

"Run along, four-eyes." Gilbert cackled. "Take good care of your girlfriend!"

I flushed with colour and subjected him to a few carefully selected curse words. Arthur relentlessly strung random swears together.

"_Adios, amigo." _Antonio enthusiastically waved at us. Scarily enough, he accepted a condom from Francis.

"Bye!" Gilbert punctuated his farewell with a middle finger and Francis threw a condom at us.

"Keep it for later!"

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><p><strong>AN: And so we have all been blessed with the awesome that oozes out of Gilbert. I do like Francis, I really do, but his role is important. His character play a crucial part! Please excuse me for hating on him but it will ease off, I can assure you. Of course, we have Antonio. Please keep in mind that one of this story's key themes is maturity and how teenages go through life, becoming adults, etc.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey! Here's another update for you all. This chapter is significantly longer than my previous ones and it's very important to the story! I'd like to thank you for reading this story and I have now started replying to reviewers :3 **

**I don't own Hetalia or any of the other animes/books/films etc. mentioned in this story.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>We were late. On the first day of school. The words of warning that some of my teachers often took delight in drilling into head swam around in my thoughts, provoking occasional pangs of dread and panic. I wasn't smart - not by any means - and I barely made decent grades, but I couldn't stand being late. It always earned me hours worth of detentions and I didn't like wasting my free time on writing pages of apologetic lines.<p>

Arthur began to tug on the long sleeves of his blazer and grumbled nervously as we approached the gates of Winkelman High. He muttered something that sounded all too British and frowned.

"Cheer up, Artie," I smiled encouragingly. "You're gonna' love it here!"

His iconic eyebrows furrowed and his acidic eyes cast themselves downwards.

"Maybe..." He mused unconfidently.

The tall, silver bars of the gate we wide open, welcoming us into the school. The Arizonian sun continued to rise high into the sky and the prospect of an air-conditioned building became all too inviting.

Green eyes scanned the establishment.

"The tour of the place was okay," he began. "A little brief, not much information, but the guy who lead it was... nice, I suppose. Awfully cheery, though."

I cracked a grin.

"Ah. Tall, overly-muscular, curly dark hair?" I asked and Arthur nodded. "Likes to laugh?"

"Very true." He confirmed.

"That, my friend, was Mr Roma, the principal. He used to work for a university but he's tying up his career with Winkelman High. Artist extraordinaire and grandfather of Feliciano and Lovino Vargas." I explained with a respectful tone.

Yeah, 'cause Mr. Roma really was _the man, _stubble and all!

"I think," Arthur paused, "that this Mr Roma of your is waiting for us anyway." He jerked his head towards the school entrance.

I was so absorbed in fond memories that I had spent outside of Mr Roma's office to notice that Mr Roma himself was indeed waiting for our arrival.

"Ah, Alfred!" He chirped. He deep Italian voice sounded too happy for his pitch. "And Mr Kirkland, too!"

"We're sorry!" I automatically yelled. "We didn't mean to be late! Please don't give me detention!" My brain scrambled momentarily. "I have relatives in Rome!"

Mr Roma let out an overly-exaggerated chuckle.

"Ah, Alfred, no worries!" He smiled. "Just don't let it happen again."

Mr Roma had been human enough to spare us both of the horrors that detention brought. We had managed to miss the entire homeroom session and we'd even somehow cut into first period, biology.

One of Arthur Kirkland's _'bloody arch-nemesises!' _- the other two being chemistry and the thing of his nightmares, physics.

* * *

><p>Our teacher, Mr Pekkle, a strange man with sleek, black glasses, wasn't a scientist. No. He was a <em>physicist <em>and he refused to go by any other title. He had a strange fascination with death was certainly a joker.

He stood at the front of the classroom with the strong intentions of teaching us about enzymes - _for the six-hundredth time -_ mainly because of Arthur's lack of knowledge.

"I hate science." He grumbled unhappily, tapping his foot rhythmically on the floor. He shuffled in his seat beside me. "Stupid enzymes. This is meant to be biology, why bring chemicals into it?"

I shot him a sympathetic look and shrugged.

He wasn't happy.

Mr Pekkle eventually compared enzymes to that one friend that everyone has. The one that will not let you stay single, not under any circumstances. That one friend - or enzyme - will try their damn hardest to find someone for you to date and they will, without fail, hook you up with each other.

Suffice to say, biology ended in catastrophe.

Science - one. Arthur - nil.

* * *

><p>As the school bell rang, signalising the end of the first lesson period, Arthur slung his bag over his shoulder and muttered a few curses.<p>

"Stupid fucking science... bloody enzymes... bollocks, the lot of it!" He barked.

I dragged him out of the classroom and out of Mr Pekkle's hearing range.

"God, Artie," I muttered. "You shouldn't... uh..." A few girls strode past us and distracted me for a moment.

"Hey Alfred!" A tall blonde giggled.

"Hey!" I chirped.

"Who's your friend there?" A short, curvy girl with chocolaty locks asked, fluttering and batting her thick, mascara-coated eyelashes.

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes.

"My name's Arthur. It's a pleasure to meet you." He smirked.

The girl's eyes widened.

Of course.

That damn accent.

* * *

><p>Eventually, I had ended up dragging Arthur away from a swarm of love-struck, all-American girls. The appeal of orange tinted foundation, thick, paste-like lipstick and black-painted eyelashes wore off of me after seeing the way Arizona's girls threw themselves at the small Briton, who lapped up the attention was a fake but convincing grin and unintentionally seductive eyes.<p>

"Whoa, man." I growled. "Those girls seem to like you a little too much..."

Arthur laughed.

"Yes, well, I guess I can be quite alluring, wouldn't you think so?" He chuckled.

I bit the inside of my cheek and withheld a frown. It wasn't fair.

"Yeah, well..." I pouted. "Just try to keep that pretty little face of your intact. We've got sport next, you fucking limey."

The boys of Winkelman High didn't appear to be as impressed with Arthur Kirkland as the girls were. I had overheard one of the more muscular jocks poking fun at his lean build and his lack of height.

"He's just a skinny, scrawny piece a' shit." The jock commented to one of his friends, another stocky brute. "Just a pretty face. He'd make a good bitch, I bet he's obedient and everything."

I held my tongue and hoped that Arthur, who was accepting the school's sports uniform from a teacher, would prove them wrong.

My stomach flipped a few times and nausia rose within me. It wasn't a nice thing to hear. My heroic, justice-seeking instincts kicked in. I wanted to say something - it wasn't fair - Arthur was the new guy. He didn't deserve their crap. He was a decent guy. Something akin to fear overwhelmed my desire to confront the jocks. I wasn't the most popular of boys and picking a fight with a strong footballer wasn't going to help me at all. Guilt washed over me. I really was being selfish.

I had always wanted to be the hero but something always managed to stop me. Usually, it was fear. Fear of one thing or another.

I silently made a promise to myself; to my new best friend. I would be his hero one day. I'd be strong enough to protect him from the mean words of others.

I hadn't known Arthur for long at all but he was different. He was egotistic in his own way - kind of snobby, the galloping on his high horse kind of type - he was overly-confident and awfully opinionated but he did have good intentions. He was like the cocky, somewhat indifferent side-kick who always made a rude comment at the most inappropriate of times, the semi-comical kind of guy.

His sarcasm was oddly refreshing and different, his accent contrasted from the day-to-day Americans of Arizona, despite all of Winkelman's transfers and the multi-cultural background of the school, and he was a pretty face. Especially for a guy - not that I liked guys. Not at all.

With his sports uniform in hand, Arthur returned to me with a blank face. No scowl, no smirk, no mix of the two.

"Well..." He examined the navy shorts and the thin, white shirt. "Could be worse. What sport are we playing anyway?"

"It's more of a game than sport..." I shuddered a little at previous memories.

"What game?" Arthur asked with an increasing amount of curiosity.

"Dodgeball."


End file.
